


Moving On

by papergardener



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Complicated Relationships, Drama, Family, Gen, Mother-Son Relationship, Post-Finale, Resolution, Rose - Freeform, Steven Universe Future, coronavirus fic, give me my Steven and Rose closure, quick fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:27:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23357752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papergardener/pseuds/papergardener
Summary: "It's so easy, isn't it?"He didn’t look over. The car was empty but for him and the few possessions he had packed. The passenger seat had definitely been empty when he had left.“Leaving everything behind..."Except, apparently, for ghosts.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 131





	Moving On

**Author's Note:**

> Watched the finale, loved that last episode, but wish we could have gotten more resolution for Steven, especially with his mom, and anyway writing after something finishes is becoming a bit of a tradition for me.  
> Really, I’m still figuring out my thoughts and feelings on that finale, but god what a journey, and Steven really is such an incredible, genuine, complex character.  
> Be like Steven, indeed.  
> Wrote this in, like, four hours and deciding to post it now at 2am rather than do the smart thing and proofread it and post tomorrow.  
> Yolo!

"It's so easy, isn't it?"

He didn’t look over. The car was empty but for him and the few possessions he had packed. The passenger seat had definitely been empty when he had left.

“Leaving everything behind..."

Except, apparently, for ghosts.

“You’re not real,” Steven murmured, pressing his eyes tight and feeling them gummy and sore from hours on the road, and from his earlier tears.

“No,” she said, far too familiar. “Not anymore.”

“Guess I was more tired than I thought.” He saw an approaching exit—52, with a rest stop and signs for a national park further on—and threw on his blinker, letting the car coast along down from eighty, to sixty, and forty-seven mph as he took the roundabout. “Better get some sleep before driving anymore.”

He checked the mirrors, double-checked his rearview, and finally looked to the passenger side. Empty, of course. Except for the little plant below, nearly lost in shadow. A rose. Pink in miniature.

That might have been a mistake.

“I’m moving past all of this,” he said firmly, watching the highway fade from his rearview mirror. He passed the rest stop parking lot, an empty asphalt parking lot with two yellow lights shining from above, and kept driving.

“I’m done living in your shadow. I don’t have to… to keep fixing your mistakes.”

There was no answer.

The ride was silent as he wound through sparse fields to a rising series of forested hills. There were no other cars as he drove, and similarly the park entrance was empty as he swung into the dirt lot, lined with a shabby wood fence. He parked, flipped off the headlights, and let the car shudder and fall still around him.

It was quiet. He sighed heavily, gripping the steering wheel tight before letting his hands relax as he slumped forward. Somehow, it didn’t seem quiet enough.

“You’re gone,” he said, keeping his voice neutral.

No reply.

Groaning, he pinched the inside corners of his eyes, pressing until it stung, before opening them and staring again at the little plant in it’s little black pot. It had been a gift. Now he couldn’t remember who had given it to him. Or had he taken it from the greenhouse? He wasn’t sure it mattered as he stepped out of the car, stretching and cracking his back. Hours on the road were hard on the body. He trailed his hand along the warm hood of the Dondai Supremo as he walked around, opening the passenger side—still empty—and picking up the innocent little plant.

“Sorry, little bud,” Steven said to it as he carried it away. “Nothing personal, or, well, not against you. I just can’t have you on this trip, okay?”

The dark green leaves fluttered a little with each step, and the single pink rose seemed to glow in comparison. There were no lights out there, but the gibbous moon cast enough for him to see, and he walked out a little ways to an open field on the edge of the forest, apparently a place for visitors to picnic. Steven set down the little plastic pot, tapped the top of the foliage once, very lightly, before standing and walking away. Maybe he could rest for an hour in the car, get some sleep before hitting the road again.

“So you’re running away,” the voice said, making him stop dead. He straightened, forcing one deep breath in, and one deep breath out.

“No,” he said, glaring hard, straight ahead.

“Just like me.”

“No I’m not!”

He wheeled about, a terribly familiar fury rising within him, but it vanished in his surprise to see him mother sitting there in the grass, looking at him.

“You’re not real,” he said, clutching his shirt, right over where his gem rested.

Her gem.

She smiled.

Without a word spoken, he understood, and sighed. She patted the grass beside her, and he dutifully came and sat down, his arms loosely curled around his knees. He dreaded to think what his therapist would say when he recounted all of this, but that was a worry for future Steven.

“I’m not running away,” he said, sounding nearly petty, if this wasn’t so important.

She laughed. He hated it. He hated how it still almost made him want to cry.

“Oh, I know,” she said, smiling. “You don’t need to run away. You’re better than that. Better than me.”

“Except… I’m not,” Steven said, hunching over.

Steven didn’t know if he was better than his mom, or worse. She, at least, had never shattered a gem. But he, for his part, had never caused an interstellar war. Frankly, he was tired of weighing them against each other, like pebbles on a scale.

They sat in silence. The breeze came and went, and there was a light undertone of bugs chittering in the grass and from the woods at their backs. The clouds drifted high overhead in no great hurry. He thought he should have a great many things to say to his mother, many of them furious and shouted. Now here was his chance, illusion or not, and he couldn’t think of a single word.

He wanted to be angry. He _desperately_ wanted to be angry, but all he felt were his eyes burning. No matter how the years had passed, how much he had matured and grown, there were still moments he felt like a dumb kid all over again.

“I’m moving on,” he said at last, his voice choked.

“Good.” She sounded kind.

But that wasn’t true, now that he heard himself say it. Steven couldn’t move on, could he? Not really. She would always, _always_ be part of him. A hand fell on his shoulder, gentle.

“I’m sorry, Steven.”

He shook the hand off, glaring at her. “Now you’re sorry! Do you know how many people you hurt?” Steven said desperately. “People who trusted you. Gems that trusted you! The Diamonds, Bismuth, Spinel—all of the people I care about! A-and all you did was _run away!_ ”

“I did,” his mother said, her face unchanging. “I ran away. I didn’t want to be a diamond any longer, so I ran, and I lied. I lied to even people I cared about. I didn’t think anyone would truly care if I was gone. I thought… everyone would be safer if Pink Diamond was gone.”

His hand moved again to his stomach, his thumb trailing around the hard edge of the pink diamond embedded in him. Part of him. He had never wanted to be a diamond. It was awful how alike they sounded.

He had tried running away, too. Hadn’t he? And he had lied to those he cared about, too… hadn’t he? To protect them, and protect himself. Because of it, he had become a monster.

“I need to move on,” Steven said, pulling himself tighter and looking to the horizon that he knew lay ahead, even if he couldn’t see it. “I need to become my own person. Even though… you’ll always be a part of me. No matter how much I wish I wasn’t a diamond, or you…”

“Oh, Steven…” He looked over, meeting her eyes. They were a bit like his, except not at all.

“I meant it, what I said,” she said softly. “I wish I could have told you in person. I wish I could have held you… know that I’ll always love you. True, you’re half of me but, Steven, you are so much more than that.”

His throat felt tight as he gazed up at her. Carefully, unsure, he reached out and touched her hand. He didn’t understand how. He didn’t question it.

“M-mom?” he whispered, the word strange and familiar. He held her hand tighter. “I forgive you.”

She shifted at that, hardly seeming to breathe, as if in disbelief. For the very first time, Steven saw tears in her eyes. She didn’t bother to brush them away as she gazed at him, seeming to take all of him in. Once she opened her mouth, hesitated, and then smiled.

“You’ve grown so much.” She put her hand over his own. “I’m proud of you.”

She bent forward and kissed his forehead. A tear fell and landed on his cheek. He closed his eyes.

“Take care of yourself, Steven.”

When he opened his eyes again, he was laying sprawled out over the dry grass. It was dark, the moon having disappeared over a horizon, though it had been there just moment before.

It was quiet, and he was alone. Beside him, the little rose plant sat, still in the calm night air. With a great sigh Steven let his head fall back as he shut his eyes, and felt himself settle.

Thoughts came and went, but no more tears, and no more anger. He lay under the great open sky, and he breathed.

Birdsong was the first herald, scattered and uncertain, and then came the pink edge of pre-dawn, casting everything in pale gray like shadows. Soon it would be morning, and he had a journey still ahead. He felt better. The exhaustion still lingered, but it wasn’t so bad. Standing, he reached his arms up high, holding the stretch before letting go with an outward breath. His shoulders weren’t so heavy. Everything felt just a little lighter. The tempest of emotions he had long held towards his mom had grown quiet in the night, from a howling, shrieking gale over churning seas to a calm sky over sea. The wind still blew, white caps crested over the waves, but the storm had passed.

He felt at peace.

He looked down at the plant. He would not take it with him, that was baggage he no longer had to carry. But he would not leave it there alone and discarded. So, instead, he took the plant, found a little signpost, and began to dig beside it, somewhere it wouldn’t be trampled on. The hard dirt bit under his nails, and the soil was cool and damp the deeper he went, until it was ready.

Quietly, in the growing light, he planted the little rose, in a place new and strange and beautiful. There was space to grow, and sunlight, and clean, fresh air. Maybe one day he would come back. Perhaps it didn’t matter. A part of Rose would always be with him, but he was ready to become his own person.

He was moving on.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Rebecca Sugar and the Crewniverse for creating and sharing this wonderful, important, heartfelt series.


End file.
